


The Case of a Backstair Boyfriend

by two_dead_parrots



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_dead_parrots/pseuds/two_dead_parrots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a new mysterious boyfriend. And Sherlock starts realizing things. But danger is closer than they think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: They don't belong to us. We can only wish. And we do.  
> More to come, but we're little busy as of now, but we'll try to do something about it. Be assured it's going to get interesting...  
> (P.S.: We're not related to Gollum, we're collaborating.)
> 
>    
>  _ **Backstair (a.)** Private; indirect; secret; intriguing; - as if finding access by the back stairs._

Bang. The front door of Baker Street 221B smashed closed and the world famous detective, known also as Sherlock Holmes began running upstairs to the living room he shared with his flatmate, personal blogger and/or nanny, Doctor John Watson.

"John! I got it! It was so simple I just cannot understand how long it took me. I think even Lestrade would be able to solve this one... in a week, maybe, but still..." he shouted, in his voice mixing frustration of a perfectionist and smugness of a narcis.  
"John," he stopped at the doorstep to the living room. 

John quickly stood up from the sofa, but he wasn't alone. Next to him turned up an unknown man. He was in his early thirties, not tall, more like John's height, short dark hair. He was dressed in clothes for a far younger person than he was, in black jeans, burgundy hoodie and sneakers. He grinned at Sherlock. Sherlock immediately hated him.  
 _This is not a customer,_ flashed through his mind, but soon as he could start deducing information about the man, John said:  
"Sherlock, this is, uhm, Jim." He's feeling awkward, thought Sherlock.  
"We are...*cough*...dating." John blushed, but Jim reached his hand to Sherlock.  
"It's pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes, I've heard about you so much!"  
"Of course you have." Sherlock didn't accept his hand and turned his eyes to John, looking for an explanation, why is his seemingly straight friend suddenly introducing him his boyfriend.  
"Uhm... Jim is the new guy at 's. We met at New Year's Eve Party."  
"I always thought that doctors sleeping with nurses is too big a cliche, even for you, John" snapped out Sherlock bluntly.  
John blushed even more furiously, his face getting to an awful shade of red.  
"Actually, Mr. Holmes, I'm not a nurse. I'm a new cardiologist. But I must say, it flatters me that you've read me wrong. I would made a career as a master of disguise, with this reference." winked Jim.

_He's not so daft as most of the people,_ thought Sherlock. _And there's something weird about him. He confuses me,_ he realised suddenly.

"Now excuse me, I have some work to do. As, surely, you do too." he said coldly.

He turned his back on them and shut the door of his room behind himself. John sighed, this was even worse than he had thought it would be.  
Jim caressed his hand and John looked up at him: "Don't worry, he'll come to terms with it... Somehow. Someday."  
From behind the door they could hear quick violin concerto.

_Now this is interesting on several points:_  
 _A) John, who never showed any inclinations of being gay is dating a man. I never thought he had such appalling taste._  
 _B) He confuses me. This doesn't happen. Ever._  
The basic facts were laid before him to be seen - the "Jim" was apparently not as dumb as majority of people, he was quite well off - the clothes weren't the cheapest ones. He cared about his appearance... But that was as far as Holmes could get, nothing more though his mind was pacing at a furious speed.

Sherlock heard a knock on the door and for a moment stopped playing, then begun again. John came in.  
"What was that supposed to mean? You enjoy destroying every relationship I might've tried to form?" Watson snapped at him  
"This one comes as bit of a surprise, don't you think?"  
"Why does it matter to you?"  
"I'm surprised. That should flatter you. Your boyfriend" he said that word with unconcievable disdain "indeed was."  
"I'd be flattered more if I mattered to you at least as little that you'd try to be, well, not nice, but at least not plainly rude to somebody else I care for."  
"I don't like him."  
"You like nobody. But try to behave." John had thought of many mean things he could say, but didn't want to... What? Hurt Holmes? He wasn't even sure it's possible.  
"So stop dragging uninvited guests in my flat."  
"Yours? Thought it was **our** flat..."  
"Never mind it, you didn't answer my question - why, all of a sudden, a man?"  
John looked puzzled by intensity of Sherlock’s inquiry, there flashed a spark of hope through his eyes, but quickly died out as he realised that this is only another mystery to occupy Sherlock’s mind.  
Sherlock, though genius, didn't understand Johns brief pause, neither did he decode the emotion in his eyes or understood the subtle sadness in his answer.  
"I was revising some things in my life." with that he walked out of the bedroom. "I won't be in tonight!" he shouted from the door that clicked behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, darling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: No miracle that would bring any of these characters into our possession had happened, so, _no, they don't belong to us_.
> 
> _**Backstair (a.)** Private; indirect; secret; intriguing; - as if finding access by the back stairs._

"Hello, Sherlock!" John entered the lab with his new boyfriend following him inside, looking around. "Was it really so important that I needed to come immediately?" He sounded slightly pissed off.   
"Yesss..." murmured Sherlock, not raising his sight from microscope, adjusting the focus button to see the sample better.   
"Can you recognise these bacteria? It was found on the corpse. I could do it myself, but you are capable of it too and I have other stuff to do..." he turned to John and frowned when he spotted Jim. "Ah, so now we take our playthings to work, don't we?"   
John rolled his eyes. "Don't be mean, Sherlock. Actually, we were on our date, when I received your text message. Jim was curious about the lab so I took him along. I should have known that it would be something stupid."

Sherlock frowned even deeper, but soon as he could say something, John's phone began to ring. "Sorry," said John. "Hello? Oh. Harry. What? I don't understand what you're saying, Harry. Are you drunk again? Oh geez," he turned back and went outside the lab to have some privacy, leaving Sherlock and Jim alone.

"So, this is your little kingdom?" asked Jim with fake interest and painted-on smile so obvious that Sherlock began to hate him twice as more.   
"Don't pretend. And shut up. Stay away from my instruments and microscope, don't touch anything and let me work."   
Jim chuckled and came closer to Sherlock, standing behind him.   
"You know," his voice was barely audible. "It isn't me, who he wants. I'm only a "plaything", as you said. I know you meant is as an insult, but you were right. He just doesn't know whether he is really not straight or if he has those inappropriate feelings for only one person. And he uses me as a test. He thinks I don't know, but I do. I'm quite smarter than I look. And I of course know, who he wants, Sherlock Holmes. I bet a genius like you can figure it too," he whispered.  
Sherlock closed his eyes for a second and turned around. "You're talking rubbish."  
"I don't and you know it," grinned Jim, suddenly in good mood.   
"And in case you wonder, why I'm with a man, who doesn’t care about me, I feel obliged to tell you that it's not _him_ who I have interest in, dear world's best detective."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. It couldn't be.., could it?  
"I've been longing to meet you for some time now. I know you did too. Excuse that little masquerade, I can't resist a bit of drama if I have such possibility," his grin widened and he began to look a bit insane.  
"And sorry for using poor doctor to get near to you. Even if it's mutual. You know," he came even closer to Sherlock, raising his hand and softly caressing his neck, "I think I understand what he sees in you.." whispered, his face coming closer, his lips gently touching Sherlock's skin.   
"And I am as usual in shadow of the Great Sherlock Holmes, even for poor disoriented doctor."  
"Moriarty..." hissed Sherlock, completely stunned.  
“Well, yes, darling. Happy to meet me?”  
Sherlock felt his breath on back of his neck and almost shuddered, but forced his body to stay still. He turned to face his enemy whose face was smiling at him.  
“I’ve experienced few happier moments in my life…”  
“Oh, I’m hurt. _Deeply._ ” Moriarty whispered.  
“You’ll only get hurt. If something happens to John.”  
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. John’s safe as long…” a maniacal, victorious grin flashed through his face. 

Sherlock frowned. _As long as what?_  
“Sherlock…” Moriarty’s hand caressed Sherlock’s chest and abdomen and lingered there. “Think.”  
 _Of course. Stupid. He wants to be close to me, to watch my steps, to control me. By being with John._  
“I can’t tell John,” he breathed out.  
“Exactly, love. You won’t,” the hand got even lower, lightly touching Sherlock’s crotch and Moriarty leaned closed and almost touched his lips. “Play my game and he’s safe.”

Sherlock wanted to move away but couldn’t – he was in the corner, both figuratively and literally – his back was touching the table and in front of him stood Jim Moriarty watching him with look of a satisfied egomaniac.  
“No, no, we’re not trying to escape, are we? I cannot allow it.”  
Sherlock could feel a hand on his back pushing him to Moriarty’s body.  
“No, I won’t let somebody as brilliant and beautiful as you are to escape.” In every situation but this one, that would be a compliment. _This was a threat. Of violence and blackmail,_ Sherlock thought.   
“John’s ended the call,” Sherlock said. “I don’t think you want him to see this.”

Moriarty smiled, caressed Sherlock’s cheekbone and catlike disappeared to the door towards John and kissed him briefly. John blushed and looked at Sherlock with worries. He pretended he was oblivious to it.

For the rest of the day, Sherlock was completely silent. Late at night his phone clicked.  
The text read:   
**Thinking of you two. Hope everything’s fine.  
x M**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Disclaimer:** Do you think if they belonged to us, they would fuck each other? Well they would. And us also. Point is, they don't belong to us..._
> 
> And, also, thank you lovely people for following and comments, we appreciate is warmly and we're glad you like this.

The living room at Baker Street 221B was silent, except the occasional clinking of Dr Watson's teacup. He was sitting on his armchair, pretending to be writing a blog and drinking tea. He wasn't doing neither properly, instead he was getting more and more nervous. The said nervousity was caused by Sherlock Holmes, sitting on the leather couch against John, frowning and staring at him intensively, his fingers forming a roof.

"He's not good enough for you."

_Oh god, it's finally here_ , thought John who was mentally preparing for this one particular talk for some time now. He didn't expect from Sherlock to like his current boyfriend - although John himself wasn't used to call Jim like that yet - he would be surprised if Sherlock did. So he supposed that he had to prepare some very strong arguments to defend his new relationship.

"Sherlock.."

"You should break up with him," continued Sherlock.

"Because you said so? Really, Sherlock, I don't get why you dislike Jim so much," sighed John.

"Being gay doesn't suit you, John. You should stick back to women."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"What..NO! But...I don't think it's right.."

"So now you are a homophobe. You, a person who never gave a fuck about what the others do. Really, Sherlock, I don't recognise you."

"Okay. I hate him. He is sleazy, disgusting and stupid. Please break up with him," Sherlock was getting desperate. He had never so openly disagreed with John's choice of partner, but this was important - John _had_ to break up with Jim. But this talk obviously led to nowhere, Sherlock won't persuade John to do so without any real arguments and for this time he didn't have any relevant ones - Jim was really overbearingly sweet and kind to John, he wasn't stupid at all and even was quite good-looking. The only real point that could change John's mind would be the fact that Jim was _Moriarty_ , but he couldn't tell it to John. This game had only two players and John's life was obviously the main prize.

"Sherlock, I thought you would do better," grinned John ironically. "I don't have any reason to break up with Jim and I won't." _Unless.._ "I know it's quite surprising, I dating a man, but I realised some things about my life and I just need to. And don't think I'm so dumb that I don't realise, why you are doing all of this bullshit - as usual, you are afraid that things between me and Jim go serious. I would move out and you would lost your personal nanny." John voice was tense. "For which I am nothing else to you.

John was looking seriously upset and turned towards the door.

"John..."

"Just shut up. You know it's true," murmured John, leaving room, not looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock's frown deepened.

There are not many things which could surprise Sherlock Holmes, but one of those occurred few days later when said detective returned from his tiny little case he took up only to try to think about something else than Moriarty, Moriarty and… Moriarty. Not that it worked particularly well. As a matter of fact, it did not, even in the slightest…

And what his eyes beheld was definitely not going to help – having walked the stairs, from the doorway Sherlock could see the couch in which John sat, which would, of course, be completely normal and not shocking. If only there wasn't a certain consulting criminal sitting in John's lap…

Sherlock stood silently and couldn't force his eyes off the men on the sofa. John's hair was dishevelled and Jim was slowly opening buttons on his own shirt, then guiding John's hands inside while kissing his jawline. His hips were moving ever so slightly. Then he moved his head lower and with teeth ripped of one of John's shirt's buttons and sucked on his nipple.

Sherlock stared and John's half open mouth and caught himself wondering what it would be like sitting there in John's lap, having his fingers trailing along his spine, down to his arse, feeling his tongue on his own…

All of a sudden, Jim looked to the door, as if he knew that Sherlock was watching all the time. Which he did and thoroughly enjoyed it. Looking into Sherlock's eyes, his hand moved to John's crotch and through his trousers started to caress it with his palm slowly increasing pressure. John's eyes were tightly shut and he moaned slightly. Jim smiled and winked. He began to kiss John again, slowly rocking his hips in his toy's lap, hand working inside John's pants.

Jim was obviously enjoying having an audience. John on the other hand was only gasping with his eyes tightly closed, looking like he didn't really know what to do.

Sherlock was utterly impressed with sight of John, moaning with pleasure, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down, his cheeks red. Jim smirked and began to free his cock from his trousers, when Sherlock blink, like he woke up from a dream, shivered and hurried ashamed to his room.

He carefully closed the door and locked it, sat down on the bed and began to think. Things got really worse. John seemed really into Moriarty, there was no way he was dumping him. This whole relationship was like a bomb that could anytime explode and the only ones who would be hurt are John and Sherlock himself. Moriarty was insane and unpredictable, Sherlock didn't know his plans, but he has to do anything to prevent any disaster he could make. And John... Sherlock shivered. John didn't have a clue, what danger he had so close to him. Too close. Sherlock closed his eyes and recalled a memory of John, panting, blushing, under Moriarty's obviously skilled caress. He never thought about John..or anybody...in this way. Nobody ever looked appealing to him until now. The look of John's partly open mouth, sound of his gasping and the way his hair was curling when sweaty. Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned against the bedframe. He suddenly felt jealous of Moriarty that he could touch John, even if he didn't care about him. And it was mutual, wasn't it? John wants only Sherlock.

Yes. Sherlock touched himself over the fabric of his trousers. John should be with him. He was always possesive of John, but never in this way. Jealousy. This was new to Sherlock and he knew that Moriarty knew it too already. Or maybe guess, but his assumptions of Sherlock's feelings were right, even before Sherlock realised them. All he did was deliberate, to make Sherlock Holmes mad and to make a mistake leading to his own damnation. Sherlock put a little more pressure on his cock, knowing that if he surrenders to this aching feeling now, he won't be able to back off. But he couldn't resist. First time in his life he felt desire another than to solve a mystery or to learn someting new. He desired John.

He unzipped his pants and firmly held his cock, slowly moving his and his slow and sleepy limping towards kitchen every morning.

John and his ever present cup of tea.

John and the face he made when he suddenly realized something.

John and his jumpers.

Sherlock's hand went faster, remembering more and more John's characteristics his mind picked up during the years. Petty habits, facial expressions...

All of that was pushing Sherlock more and more closer to his climax, his first in life that wasn't just a ordinary physical need, but a real _want_.

He was now panting hard, his hand moving fast and hard.

He imagined how it would be if it was him on Moriarty's place, touching John, sucking on his neck, kissing him. Suddenly he tensed and spilled all of his hand, biting the other one to stiffle his moan.

And first time in his life he didn't know what to do.


End file.
